Glad to be Grey or Miserable to be Miscellaneous?
by duchess-susan
Summary: Nobby and Reg find themselves in each others company more and more. This is, I believe, the very first Nobby/Reg romance ever. Read before you flame.
1. Chapter 1

**I believe this is the first Nobby/Reg romance ever to be written-anyone who has read 'Comradeship Has Limits' will understand what led me to this, but it is not intended to be a sequel. Please don't read if you don't want to see that pairing. Will be tame-I promise, just implied or hinted at romance. Review, if you can bear to. And if you can't I'd just like to mention that I never normally write stuff like this.**

**And I own nothing. Everything but the pairing belongs to Terry Pratchett.**

Glad to be Grey or Miserable to be Miscellaneous?

Reg knew there was something wrong when he walked into the Pseudopolis Yard that morning. He just didn't comprehend _how _wrong, until he saw the sight at the desk.

Nobby was in a filthy temper. The Watch had arrested him last night-his own _colleagues _had left him in the cells all night. Because he had been 'indecently apparelled' whilst walking the streets. They'd only let him out of the cells once he had exchanged his Beti clothes for uniform.

Nobby saw a target in Reg. _Someone _had to suffer. He missed being able to wear enough bangles to make him lop-sided. He really didn't see why anyone should object to a little _glamour, _even if the glamour he was aiming for involved rather too many sequins and rather too little fabric. Where was a cross-dressing corporal to turn? Where could he be accepted? Or at least not rejected too violently. An evil but strangely charming idea crept into his head. Perhaps a target could become a _plan._

'Reg?'

'Yes?' Reg didn't move any closer to Nobby, but did stop walking (or, to be cruelly accurate, lurching. Zombies can't help but lurch. They are experienced and expert lurchers).

Nobby tried to smile winsomely. All that happened was that his face seemed to become a reverse-landslide, heading upwards as one largely unified mass.

'I was wondering if you still needed members for that meeting thing of yours...'

'But they're for the differently alive Nobby.'

Nobby shrugged. 'Who's to say I'm _normally _alive? If anyone's differently alive it's me.'

Reg was flabbergasted by this argument. It was undeniable that Nobby certainly wasn't an ordinary type of person, and his precise _species _was difficult to discern, especially since anyone trying to study Nobby in fine detail would first have to be sectioned. Reg squinted at the corporal. Certainly, if seen whilst visually-impaired Nobby _could _be considered a particularly mal-treated zombie...Reg tried to unthink that last thought. It could lead nowhere good, though hell was a definite contender for the destination.

'Maybe...that is to say...' Inspiration struck and it struck hard enough to leave Reg's brain temporarily non-functional. Only a zombie lacking brains would ever think that letting Nobby attend one meeting would then bore him into submission, and ensure his absence from future meetings. 'Why not?'

'Really?' Nobby grinned, and Reg became almost as nervous as he did in the presence of fire. 'I'll see you there then.'

Reg hurried off. Nobby smiled. _This could be the start of something grotesque._

**Please, please review. I'm begging.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2-enjoy. Sorry for all the italics, but I just needed the emphasis. I don't know whether to be appalled or proud of myself for **_**this**_**.**

Nobby dressed up for the Fresh Start meeting. He liked to make a good impression. Well, _an _impression anyway.

The other members of the club had no idea what to make of the newcomer. _Reg _had no idea what to make of Nobby and he _worked _with him. At least Reg worked with _Nobby. _That was the point, really. Reg did _not _work with _Beti._

And it was Beti who had come to the meeting. Oh, it was _definitely _Beti. Reg tried to suppress a shudder.

Inexpertly made-up eyes focused on him. 'Something wrong?'

'Not at all Nobby. Um, everyone else, this is brot-sis-_sibling _Nobby. We aren't entirely sure _what _he is but...'

'I'm definitely not a vitalist.' Nob-_Beti _smiled. Ixolite almost had a breakdown. The next note he produced was passed to Reg. It consisted of a shakily-written '_aaaaoooo'. _The penmanship was a long way away from the banshee's normal, flowing script. Even Lupine was looking a little unnerved by it all. The Count and Countess had ceased their usual _wall _of talk to watch Beti guardedly. In fact everyone made excuses to leave early, leaving Reg alone with Nobby.

'Is this what you do every Thursday, Reg? Sit in silence like this, everyone staring.' Nobby grinned evilly. 'How will you inspire a revolution like this? You've got to go out there and let people know what you're about.'

'What like you do, walking the streets in unflattering clothes?'

Nobby's eyes narrowed. 'Those clothes came from Klatch. They are _extremely _attractive, don't think I didn't see the way you stared. And I was not _walking the streets._'

'Everyone stared, Nobby. _Everyone. _And you were _on _the streets.'

'Well there you go.' Nobby's voice cracked.

Reg found himself frozen in the face of Nobby's...well, _face. _He looked like he was going to start crying. In fact, even as Reg watched his lip began to wobble.

Nobby appeared to be heading for a Grand Heart To Heart With Tearful Confessions, number 9 on the 'loss of all emotional restraint' scale. Reg wasn't entirely sure how to deal with _anyone _getting that upset, let alone a transvestite colleague who also had species issues and, from the look of things, also seemed to want to spend time with him, _socially. _Demons knew why, gods were gathering lightening bolts in preparation and Reg was just bemused by the rather alien thought.

'I mean,' Nobby hiccupped, 'I really do _try, _it's not my fault my genes have been'-and here he sought for an appropriate metaphor-'washed with a lot of other items of differing colours. I'm still a _person. _But no one will treat me like one.' The small hiccupping sobs began to turn into massive, gulping tears, and Nobby bent his head. Reg felt impelled to offer a suitably clean rag he had found on his person. When Nobby didn't lift his head Reg awkwardly pressed it into his hand.

That was when Nobby looked up, staring straight at Reg, wide-eyed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Quite often as I write this I really wonder why I'm shipping **_**this. **_**The only answer I can come up is that if I don't no one will. And they make such a wonderfully **_**grotesque **_**couple. **

Reg had ushered Nobby/Beti out quickly after that awkward moment. They returned to Pseudopolis Yard doing stylised variants on the policeman's amble, which for Reg meant that it was adapted to a shamble and, for Nobby. that it was modified to allow him to smoke. Even though he almost set fire to his Beti costume, when he forgot the trailing silk on the sleeves. Reg would have had a heart attack if he hadn't forgotten to make it beat that afternoon.

Beti seemed to have recovered, what, for want of a better word, could be called her composure. Reg said a silent prayer of thanks to any listening god, until Beti opened her mouth, at which point he began blaspheming.

'Sorry I got in such a state Reg.'

'Not a problem,' he mumbled.

'It's just that things have been a bit _much _lately.'

_'Really.' _Reg willed Nobby to hear the crudely sculpted disinterest in his voice and _just stop._

'Traffic's so dull to work in, and that suits old Fred just fine, but I see the other officers, risking everything in the pursuit of justice, and, well...they're so...so _brave, _living that ideal. I want to be there again, not eating figgins 'til I die.'

'I don't think anyone in the Watch could be said to be living an ideal Nobby, except for Carrot, maybe.'

'There's _you,_ Reg.'

For a few seconds cold, uncomprehending winds whistled through Reg's head as he replayed that reply in his head a few times. Nobby was looking at him with an intent shyness that made him look like a particularly intelligent chimp.

'I'm not...I'm hardly...that isn't a realistic...it isn't so clear cut,' Reg settled for, his voice unusually cracked with a terror peculiar to those with a Nobbs in the vicinity.

'I think it is.' Somewhere under a patina of cynicism and filth Nobby's eyes sparkled with something rather alien.

'That's interesting Nobby, but...'

'But what, Reg?' Nobby handed back the now even more soiled rag Reg had given him, taking perhaps a second too long to press it into his palm.

Reg sighed. 'But living an ideal is an ambition that few achieve, even after they die. So perhaps you should take a little longer to decide what I'm currently living.'

Nobby smiled. 'Are you saying that further study and analysis is needed? Because I'm only too happy to comply.'

Reg stared. That hadn't sounded like a Nobby sentence. _What was happening?_

He took solace in the truth. 'I don't know, Nobby.'

'Well I think the answer is yes, so that's what I'll do. I'll get to know you better and then decide.'

Reg wasn't crass enough to groan loudly enough for Nobby to hear.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to all the reviewers (you have been quite exceptionally kind), and the beginning of the second paragraph was inspired by some comments made by Douglas Adams about 'The Hitch-hikers Guide to The Galaxy'. The rest of the second paragraph was inspired by 'The Hitch-hikers Guide to The Galaxy' itself. Not entirely sure that it works so feedback would be appreciated, as ever. Also due to my inability to transcribe drunken speech Nobby and Reg must be assumed to be extraordinarily coherent drunks.**

The Watch were in the Bucket. Reg was forced to reflect that perhaps he should have reserved his custom for Biers instead, despite being a member of the Old Sam, as drinking in this particular bar meant that Nobby was also present, and he wasn't sure that he wanted either Nobby or Beti around. Which was unsettling. Normally it was hideously _easy _to decide that you did not want Nobby around, in any situation, so easy the decision could be reached unconsciously. And yet...right now Reg was lost in the conflicted Nobby-related whims he was currently suffering from. And he was aware of the fact, which stung. _He shouldn't even have to _think _of Nobby, except as a petty criminal._ He wanted, very badly, for the stinging to disappear, and, currently, saw drink as the only way to numb it.

Whether alcohol should effect zombies is a topic so far unexplored, so perhaps the facts should be set down here, to be recorded, read, confused in the retelling and warped beyond all recognition until even the author cannot remember what the original passage relayed in any detail. Zombies have to concentrate for their hearts to beat, meaning any blood flow is intermittent at best, and often the circulatory system is entirely static. Alcohol is transported via the bloodstream, and so needs said bloodstream to be running to have any effect what so ever on the individual. Technically, therefore, it should be impossible for a zombie to become drunk. _However, _the second most powerful force known to the multiverse is belief, the most powerful being denial. Through a cocktail of the two many zombies can find themselves drunk whilst the state is actually biologically unattainable, especially if they _want _to be intoxicated, and are too distracted to acknowledge the impossibility. Reg had reached this heady state, and was leaping happily to a form of existence generally affectionately known as 'the debtor', a term used to indicate that the individual will really _pay _in the morning. With interest.

Nobby was also currently only on nodding terms with sobriety. The other officers were far too busy drinking to actually pay any attention to either Reg or Nobby at this moment in time. The future was trembling in wary and _frightened _anticipation.

'Reg?'

'Yes Nobby?'

'Whassit, like, whassit _like _being a zombie?'

Reg appeared to give this some thought. 'Like a more complex form of being normal, I s'pose.'

'So...do you feel like you did before? Nah, I don't _mean _that, what I _mean _is do you have the same _emotions _as,' Nobby hiccupped, 'as before.'

Reg screwed his face up in hazy thought, risking the loss of his nose. 'I think I do...Yes, it's just that all of them are, sort of fogged, unless you feel them constantly, or concentrate. But the thoughts that go with them are exactly the same.'

Nobby sidled a little closer, although it could have been interpreted as a kind of inebriated semi-vertical collapse. _Could_ have been. Reg noticed, but felt no need to edge away, as perhaps, no, as _definitely _he would have a few days ago.

Nobby seemed to be contemplating something at once perilous, alien and utterly beguiling. Disconcertingly for someone so drunk he was looking unwaveringly at Reg's grey face, eyes over-bright and mind racing, partially due to the alcohol that was fuelling it, partially due to the clouded eyes he was currently studying for the smallest hint as to the thoughts of the zombie. It wasn't just that, though. Nobby was not even broadly aware of romantic clichés, and had no idea how unoriginal his honest fascination with Reg's irises was.

Nobby's voice was softer now, quieter to, 'should you concentrate now then? Or is it constant for you too?'

Reg's mouth fell open, partially in shock and partially through the aid of decay. Nobby, ever the opportunist, leaned forwards and...

Overbalanced, ending up under the table.

**Thank the gods Nobby misjudged that last movement or who knows what might have happened...Sorry everyone. They got a little out of hand. My mind needs cleansing-I cannot believe I wrote Nobby's last line... **


	5. Chapter 5

**Reg is left trying to deal with the aftermath of the previous chapter...**

Reg could quite truthfully say he had never had a night like _that _before. With sobriety had come memory, and the memory of Corporal Nobbs last act in the Bucket the previous evening had a curiously..._permanent_ quality, so much so that Reg had never been entirely free of it since he had woken up and realised.

_Nobby had tried to..._

Reg found himself making a spirited attempt at blushing. He may have been a zombie of the world but even the most innocent of romantic acts became painfully embarrassing when Nobby...when _Corporal Nobbs _became involved. He could only thank the gods that none of the rest of the Watch had noticed the brief and internally-sabotaged _moment _they had experienced. He shook his head. There was no _they, _there was _him _and there was _Nobby. _And that was the end of it.

So why couldn't he call him Corporal Nobbs? And why did he feel slightly odd when he tried to tell himself that there was no 'they'? Kind of sick and despairing and fluttery all at the same time, a type of weak melancholy tainted with oblique pain. As if he'd just been told all of Ankh-Morpork was out of formaldehyde.

He'd taken the day off. He wasn't entirely sure he could be in the same building as Nobby right now. After all Nobby had only done what he did because, as Carrot would say, he was the worse for drink, or as Vimes would say, he was off his face. That worried Reg in a nagging way, though he refused to ask himself why he was concerned that Nobby may have tried what he tried only due to intoxication.

Reg was pacing up and down his room at Mrs Cake's, annoyed with himself for being so _restless. _He'd pace, catch himself doing it, throw himself into a chair, then resume pacing. Whatever he was doing at the time was wrong, was annoying, was a waste of time he wished to pass as quickly as possible. He was unable to decide whether his life, his very self, or the entire Disc were wrong, were the reason he felt so...conflicted.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. Normally he would have spent this day trying to raise the dead. Trying to cajole them into leaving the apathy natural to the deceased, attempting to defeat vitalism. Today, however, unsettled as he was, nothing could occupy his attention for more than a few minutes, as though he were a child again-impatient, with a great passion for knowledge and without the patience to sustain it. Only this was childhood distraction grown up, allied with hormones and malignant with it, raging and without the charm of youth.

Reg wasn't sure what he wished most: that Corporal Nobbs had never leant forward or that Nobby had never overbalanced.


	6. Chapter 6

**Enjoy everyone-I even got a line from 'Pride and Prejudice' into this chapter. Which is quite an achievement considering this pairing. Hmm-who is Mr Darcy and who is Elizabeth Bennet? Sorry to anyone who knows Italian better than me if I've misspelled veritas. **

Judgement day had arrived, although Reg wasn't entirely sure whether it was simply a judgement of the usual, everyday kind, or a Judgement of Biblical proportions, apocalypse and all.

Him and Nobby were in the station together. And, whilst the zombie had decided to attempt to ignore Nobby, Nobby was apparently pursuing a rather different course of action.

Nobby was trying to _talk. _Admittedly for the moment it appeared to be work-related, but it was still _speech, _still _words, _still _contact. _Reg got flustered at that. _Not contact, NOT CONTACT. _

Nobby seemed a little worried too. 'Reg, we're supposed to be patrolling the docks in ten minutes.'

'Are we?'

Nobby nodded once or twice, seeming as shifty as his normal self for a few seconds. Then the worry came back. Reg tried to pretend that the look was actually a measure of concern about the dog-end behind Nobby's ear-perhaps it was finally giving up the ghost?

And then Nobby and Reg were walking the streets again.

Nobby sighed slightly. 'Are you alright? You weren't around yesterday.'

Reg shrugged, a sign of a zombie living dangerously-you never knew_ what _might fall off. 'Fine.'

'About the Bucket...and what happened...it wasn't-'

'Nobby do you think we could just be quiet for a little bit? I mean-do you always talk so much when you patrol?'

Nobby looked wounded. It was a good job he wasn't literally wounded, Reg imagined any open injury Nobby had would become infected in seconds. 'No Reg. I prefer to be unsociable and taciturn.'

It was Reg's turn to sigh. Although, in his case it was completely unnecessary considering that breathing in the first place was superfluous. 'I didn't mean to be sharp. I just...I would rather forget what happened the night before last. We were both _very _drunk.'

Nobby scratched his head. 'I'm sure Fred has a saying for that-_in vino veritas. _Or something. Om knows what it means.I don't think either of us should forget. We don't have the right. We'd be robbing ourselves and each other. Besides I've been drunk often enough to know when I'm doing something I'd do sober if I had the confidence.'

'Nobby are you getting _philosophical?' _Reg had decided to ignore the last sentence.

Nobby looked flummoxed. 'Maybe. You tell me, you always have so many beliefs. Belief is just another word for philosophy, right?'

'Not quite.' Reg gave up. It was so strange seeing Nobby acting like this, like seeing Vimes sharing a cigar with a prisoner, like seeing Sergeant Colon reject a figgin, like hearing Carrot swear, or hearing Detritus talk like Vetinari. It was so wrong it felt like it was reshaping the universe, and, what was more, you felt like maybe, just _maybe, _you'd love the new shape of the cosmos. Or rather, that if the reshaping succeeded you would have to face either perfection or dystopia and you had no idea which. And you were _so _frightened by what might happen, but _so _curious too, so that you were torn by choosing between encouraging it or halting it. So torn you just watched, immobile. Letting it happen. Because you couldn't bare to be responsible for it _not _happening.

'Yeah, well,' Nobby deflated, an action that made him so tiny he seemed just a clod of dirt. Reg felt an unbearable urge to say something that would restore him, but then Nobby returned to normal, or as normal as he had been lately and smiled. 'Doesn't matter. What _matters, _is that I can tell you this. I have no idea if it's philosophy, or just a string of random thoughts but...I thought you were living a dream. And you told me you weren't. And I said I'd study you for a bit. Well...'

'Nobby that was only a few days ago...'

Nobby waved his hands in the air as though wafting away Reg's protests. 'But I can already tell. You say you aren't living an ideal, but if you aren't, someone like you, then you _must _be pursuing it, in every moment you can. And...I'm going to take a leaf from your book. I can't let things go, I have to chase them.' Nobby was looking at him in shy defiance. 'I'm going to carry on going to Fresh Start meetings, you know that? I've got a right.'

Reg nodded. He had no idea what else to do, quite apart from the fact that he really didn't seem to mind that he would now be seeing Nobby socially. It might be fun...He reeled. Had he really just thought that? All he said was, 'you're welcome to the meetings Nobby.'

Nobby smiled, uncertainly, but with a kind of appreciation Reg had never seen directed at him before.

They'd returned to the Yard in amiable silence. Reg had caught Nobby's eye a few times, but he didn't even try and dissect the communication that passed between them. It didn't matter. What mattered was it was there.

And then Reg was leaving the Yard for Mrs Cakes', and Nobby had, completely by coincidence, been leaving at the same time. So they'd walked together. And had been so busy talking about the vitalism and Nobbsism in the city that Reg had found himself inviting Nobby in...


	7. Chapter 7

**Once again the characters got out of control and started running rings around me. Apologies.**

Reg wasn't sure if Mrs Cake had policies about this kind of thing. He definitely wasn't going to ask. Ever. Because this was _never _going to happen again, it was all a terrible-_no, wonderful-_mistake. That was never-_always-_to be repeated.

He groaned in a kind of humiliated-_ecstatic-_remembrance as he saw the body in the bed next to him. He had no idea what to do. This _did not happen _in a life like his, in an unlife like his, in _anyone's _existence. He thought he heard Nobby mumble curses sweetly in his sleep. _Not sweetly, _not_ sweetly._

That was it. It was all too confusing. So Reg got dressed hurriedly, because that was a _normal _activity, that _normal _people did in the mornings when they _hadn't _been indulging in intimate relations with a colleague of indefinite species and a known tendency to cross-dress.

He sunk his head into grey hands. He didn't know whether to despair or...Well, there were alternatives, he knew that much. Shame they were refraining from introducing themselves.

That was when he heard Mrs Cake knock. He went a violent shade of grey that counted, for a zombie, as desperate, sickening panic. He did not want to wake Nobby. For one thing he would probably say something Reg would rather not hear, and for another Nobby looked far to peaceful...WHAT WAS HE THINKING?

And that was when Reg remembered that his door had a habit of swinging open at the slightest provocation. With a sense of the inevitable he watched as it yielded and revealed Mrs Cake.

'Ah well. No need to be shamed I've known people do worse. At least he's got the uniform, everyone loves a uniform, although he seems to have lost that recently.'

'Um...'

'Who's the officer?'

_Bless all landladys with precognition. I bet she's already seen this. Which is why she isn't making a fuss. _Reg thought about this a little more. _Hang on-coming to terms with _this _must have taken days, if not weeks. So why didn't she _tell _me? Must have thought I might not have done if impulse had been removed. _

'Ah...Corporal Nobbs.' No point in lying-Nobby was too distinctive, even if Mrs Cake hadn't seen it all before.' _Poor woman-seeing this twice..._

Mrs Cake smiled and nodded. 'I'll be off then. Remind me to fix this door. Soon.' She shut the offending door after her.

Nobby opened his eyes at that. With a knowing smile he said, 'living the ideal yet, Reg?' And then, 'Fresh Start meeting today. That will be_...fun.'_

Reg had no idea what to say. He hadn't since he and Nobby had cast their Watch uniforms into the corner last night.

**Can't believe I just went there, even in a rather **_**implied **_**way...but this is not the end...**


	8. Chapter 8

**I **_**think **_**this is the end. Although I'm not certain. At all. Writer's block kind of claimed this fic in the end.**

Reg was finding this Fresh Start meeting quite unusually difficult. He guessed the cause was Nobby's offensively knowing smiles from the opposite side of the room. And the fact that everyone else could see and, quite probably _interpret _those smiles. They were about as subtle as Nobby got, and therefore as obvious and hopeless as a squirrel with a nut allergy.

All the same Reg rather liked Nobby's smile. It was interesting, to say the least. _Did I just think that?_

Nobby was winking now. Reg gave up on his small speech ('Why undead does not mean un_alive'_) and tried talking to Lupine. Which was a mistake. Werewolves were the only people who could out-leer Nobby. _Must stop thinking about Nobby..._Reg mentally noted. _Even if we are..._

'How has your week been?'

Lupine grinned. 'Oh, you know Reg. Same old, same old. Yours has been more interesting though, hasn't it? I can smell it.'

Reg just stared for a few seconds before muttering, 'no, that'll be the new preserving chemicals I've been trying.'

Lupine rolled his eyes. 'Of course.' He leaned in and whispered in mock-conspirator tones, 'I think Nobby would like to talk to you now. I'm sure he is a very _crucial _part of the cause.'

Reg really didn't know what to say as the werewolf winked and walked away.

'Something wrong Reg?'

Reg looked at Nobby. He was, fortunately, in his Watch uniform, and not in any kind of Beti-related garb. All the same...

'What are we doing Nobby?'

'Us, Reg?' Nobby grinned. 'We are living the dream.'

Reg shrugged. 'Or at least dying the nightmare.'

Nobby's eyes narrowed in mock offence. 'Excuse me, Reg Shoe, are you insinuating I'm a nightmare?'

'Are you trying to tell me you're anything else?'

Nobby shrugged. 'Just thought you might reconsider if I questioned it.'

'I won't.'

Nobby gave him an evil grin. 'And after all that's happened between us? Mister Shoe you are no gentleman.'

Reg shambled off. Sometimes there was no living with Nobby.

It was a good job he was dead then.


End file.
